


Bucket List

by Anonymous



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Suicidal Ideation, pre-game, the saiouma's actually kinda soft tbh, your usual pregame stuff oof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Team Danganronpa gives their participants one month to do anything they'd like before they're put under their custody for the next upcoming months - whether it is for the participants to say their goodbyes or prepare for their roles.Ouma Kokichi decides to make the best of his remaining time before his existence is inevitably erased.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34
Collections: Anonymous





	1. day 0

Ouma Kokichi knew that signing up for Danganronpa was essentially a death sentence. He knew for a fact that he wouldn't make it out of the game alive, and maybe would even be the first one to die.

 _No... that role is too important_. The first to die usually goes to the characters whose deaths would heavily affect the protagonist, or the mysterious ones who actually know more than they let on. No, such a role was too important for someone insignificant like Ouma. Even now, he's still surprised that he was even accepted and wonders what type of character they'd make him out to be. What did they even see in Ouma that they thought that adding him to the colorful cast of Danganronpa would be a good idea?

How would they make the empty existence that is Ouma Kokichi interesting enough to keep the audience continue watching?

Either way, it didn't really matter, does it? He wouldn't know in the end what type of character they'd make him because he'd be gone. Erased. Forgotten. Replaced with a new personality taking his empty shell for itself.

It's not like he particularly cared either. He only wishes that his new personality would get along well with his friend. 

His friend that was also going to be in the killing game.

Saihara Shuichi was an interesting guy for sure. There was no doubt in Ouma's mind that Saihara would land a spot in the new season of Danganronpa, and land it he did. The two had planned to audition for Danganronpa a year back, when the Season 52 auditions were going on. They chose to audition for the next year instead so they could map out a plan that would get them in to DR and what they would do when (not if) they did get accepted.

(Saihara had thought that plans deeply rooted in their minds from incessantly talking about them for a year would stick around as implicit memory even with their new personalities. As smart as the guy was, Ouma couldn't help but subtly roll his eyes. Their entire lives were gonna be rewritten, leaving nothing of their previous selves behind. No matter what they do, they'll become whoever Danganronpa makes them out to be.

But Ouma decided to go along, because why not? It led to the two of them hanging out almost daily, so Ouma couldn't help but be happy with the development.

_"What if they make you such a good guy that you can't bring yourself to murder anyone?"_

_"No, I doubt they will. I'll act as unhinged as I can in the audition so they'll keep me as an antagonist just to see what kind of crazy shit I'd pull off. I mean, think about it; the Ultimate Detective, who's always helpful in trials, is actually really fucked up in the head?"_ He had smiled, almost in ecstasy. _"Everyone will love it, and Team Danganronpa wouldn't be able to say no to that."_

 _"Mmh."_ )

Saihara probably stuck to his role perfectly, as planned, since the letter that came for him did greet him as the future "Ultimate Detective." Ouma fondly remembers how Saihara had excitedly ran up to him after school, letter in hand, and happily announcing the news that both of them had gotten in. Strangely enough, Ouma's letter had no mention of an Ultimate-anything. 

(Was sending Ouma that letter a mistake? Ha, of course it would be. Everything about him was a mistake.)

Saihara had told him that sometimes they kept some talents secret from the public, and even to the participants, when the Team had... exciting ideas planned for them. His mouth was practically drooling as he rambled theories about what Ouma's talent could be.

Frankly, Ouma didn't really care for Danganronpa all that much nor whatever his fake talent was. He didn't even remember what he said in his own audition, but he's sure he gave them permission to do whatever they wanted to him as long as he was together with whatever number Saihara was.

Ouma knew how much Saihara hyperfixated on Danganronpa. He knew Saihara wanted to audition, and Ouma knew that he planned to become a blackened and be executed beautifully. Ouma couldn't stand by and watch his only friend sign up for a game broadcasted to sick fucks that would jerk off to his friend's death. That's why he told him that he wanted to audition too, even though the show disgusted him. Still... he couldn't help but think that what they did was strangely kind (although it won't seem so for the participants who had no idea they had willingly signed up for it).

After all, Danganronpa was an escape for those who are sick of living in reality. It was just fucked up how they broadcasted everything, though it's true some participants do wish to be forever immortalized within the four corners of a TV screen.

Signing up for Danganronpa was essentially a death sentence. For someone who was scared to take his own life, it was perfect for him and if, as promised, his last moments could be spent with the one person who made him feel safe in this lifetime, then it was even better.

Team Danganronpa gives their participants one month to do anything they'd like before they're put under their custody for the next upcoming months - whether it is for the participants to say their goodbyes or prepare for their roles.

Ouma Kokichi decides to make the best of his remaining time before his existence is inevitably erased.

He took out a pen and a sheet of paper, and began to write.

¤

Creating a bucket list was... harder than Ouma thought it would be. He'd been sitting in his desk for the past hour trying to think of things he wanted to do for his last month. It's a bit hard to think of ideas when you've never really entertained the thought of being selfish and doing what you wanted. Saihara had always tried asking Ouma what he wanted to do when the two hang out, but would end up doing what Saihara wanted instead when Ouma blanched.

It was still okay, though. Whatever Saihara wanted to do was also what Ouma wanted to do. He simply enjoyed spending time with the taller boy.

He stretched his arms above his head for a bit while glancing at the analog clock near his bed. The red light of the clock stood out in the darkness of his room, as his small lamp could only illuminate the area near his desk while the bed was at the opposite side of the room. Squinting, he read 2:46 and almost panicked at how late it had gotten. He had school in a few hours and he still hadn't slept-

"Ah, right... school." He murmured to himself. Does he even need to go? What was the point of going to school when he would be gone in a month? Why would he go to school and torment himself when TDR specifically gave them this time for closure and to enjoy their last days?

Then, an idea popped up in Ouma's head.

 _I no longer need to go to school, do I? And not going to school would mean I would never see those bullies again... If it's the last time I'll see them before I drop off the face of the planet anyways, I do have a few words I'd like to say before I go._

Ouma gripped his pen a bit tighter as he wrote the first bullet point of his bucket list.

\-- THINGS TO DO BEFORE I ~~DIE~~ GO --

  * Confront and fight back to those ~~fucking~~ bullies. ~~Maybe leave a few bruises or ten.~~



Ouma grimaced as he looked down at what he wrote. _This is kinda embarrassing..._ He would always leave these kinds of thoughts deep within his own mind. God knows how many times he's imagined himself inserting his own thumbs within his bullies' eyesockets and pushing, pushing, _pushing_. He was weak, sure, but he knows where the human body is vulnerable. He can fight back, he knows he can, but saying is easier than doing. He's scared of the consequences of going through with his whims, even if the bullies did deserve it.

_I'll just leave it as "civilized" talking then... as civilized it can get, anyways._

If it's just talking, he does have a few things he wants to say and ask. He'll just hope that the other party will actually stay and _talk_ . Knowing the other's impatience and general stupidity, it probably wouldn't go anywhere. Oh well, it _will_ be the last time he'll see them so he'll just leave them his parting words and go home, the rest of the school day be damned.

Ouma loosened his grip and gently put down the pen after writing down his first bullet point.

"Parting words, huh..." Ouma trailed off as his thoughts wandered off to a certain navy-haired boy. There was something he had always wanted to say to the other, but feared that doing so would destroy whatever friendship they had. _But if I'm gonna forget about all this anyways, then maybe..?_

Reluctantly, Ouma reached for his pen and put down the nib to the very last line of the paper.

  * Tell Saihara-kun ho



...

Ouma bit his lip before quickly crossing out what he wrote.

  * ~~Tell Saihara-kun ho~~ Thank Saihara-kun for always being there for me.



It's not a lie. It's true that he felt gratitude towards Saihara. It's just that he'll... omit a few more truths. Even if he knew for a fact that he'll end up forgetting the consequences of his actions, he can't bring himself to burden Saihara with his feelings. He couldn't force it onto Saihara who simply just wanted to be friends with him. Ouma was happy with just that.

 _I can't let myself be carried away._ This would have to do.

With that, drowsiness finally caught up to Ouma as he turned off his lamp and scrambled over to his bed. He'll go to school for the last time tomorrow.


	2. day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But then he thinks of soft touches, of long lashes and shy, wobbly smiles, of gold-gray eyes brightening whenever their owner talks about his favorite franchise, and he wonders that maybe he was born to this world for one purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof this chapter became uhhhh something. aaand im gonna up the rating just in case, because im not sure where this story's gonna go (other than the ending haha)
> 
> also, sorry kaito fans this pregame version of him is the usual creepy fanon one :pensive:
> 
> originally the scenes with shuichi and kokichi were gonna be much shorter but then pg kokichi went sike im gonna monologue
> 
> ty for the kudos to the last chapter and enjoy this one!!
> 
> warnings for bullying, violence, and kaito being creepy af

As always, there was no breakfast nor food set out on the table, but no matter. It has always been like that anyway, and any emotions that come from seeing the empty table have already been discarded. He has a much better place now, Ouma thinks to himself, where someone's waiting for him and he won't trade it for anything.

Ouma released a shaky breath as he continued to walk carefully towards the door. He grimaced at all the rustling sounds his loose _gakuran_ was making, but there was nothing he could do about that. He hoped that his mother, who was sleeping on the couch, was under a heavy sleep and wouldn't wake up. Honestly, he was surprised to even see that she made it home last night. _Home_ , he scoffs.

It was 5 in the morning, and Ouma had barely gotten any sleep. School was starting in a little over 3 hours, too early to be awake but considering the amount of time it would take to get on the bus, get breakfast, and then head to school, it was enough time. 

He no longer bothers to say, "I'll be going," before he silently closes the door behind him.

¤

"Go rest."

"H-huh?" 

Ouma stood agaped in front of Saihara's door, holding the groceries he bought right before coming over. The bus ride to Saihara's area didn't take long and he already had an idea for today's breakfast (hence, the groceries), only for Saihara to open up the door and tell him to forget about it instead? What's going on?

"U-um, Saihara-kun, did you forget? it's my turn to make breakfast today." He smiled sheepishly at the taller boy, though he couldn't hide the anxiety from his trembling hands as he held up the bag of groceries.

 ~~_Saihara-kun must have gotten tired of me. He hates my cooking and he's just too nice to say it to my face._ ~~ _No, stop it, you're being stupid._

Noticing Ouma's shaking, Saihara sent a wobbly smile his way. Ouma knew the navy-haired boy had a hard time smiling, and it often comes out looking pretty forced or weird (but Saihara's pretty, and any face he makes is always beautiful). It was endearing seeing Saihara try to comfort Ouma in his own, shy way, and his tense grip on the plastic bags relaxed a bit. 

As if he just realized that they were right on his doorstep, Saihara finally opened the door wider to let Ouma in before taking the groceries in his hands. Ouma, less anxious now but still confused, followed the bluenette to the kitchen where he dropped off the groceries. That is, until Saihara stopped him again and told him to go to the couch instead.

As Ouma reluctantly made his way to the connected living room, he saw Saihara look into the bags and hum in appreciation. He immediately made his way to the cabinets and began setting up some pans and other ingredients. 

Ouma held his breath while watching Saihara work. Did Saihara figure out what he planned on making from the ingredients he bought? Or is he going to make something else? 

The quiet clattering of pots and pans filled the air as Saihara pulled them out of cabinets and down to the counter and onto the stove. Ouma watched from his usual spot on the couch, where he usually curls into himself whenever the two binge the old and new episodes of _Danganronpa_. After a few more minutes, Ouma fiddled with the too-long sleeves of his uniform. _Is he not gonna say anything?_ He awkwardly cleared his throat, and before he could open his mouth to speak, the other beat him to it.

"Sorry, 'Kichi, I noticed that you've been looking really tired lately and I didn't want you to be doing all this when you need to rest." He set down the eggs onto the table before he chanced a glance in Ouma's direction, an eyebrow raised (though it's hard to tell with his hat blocking the upper portion of his face). "You haven't been getting much sleep, have you?"

Ouma blinked, before hastily rising to his feet. "N-no, it's fine, I-" _This is the only way I can repay you for everything you've done for me._ "Let me do this, Saiha-"

Saihara raised a palm up, signalling Ouma to stop. Hesitantly, he did. "No, Kichi, it's okay. I don't want you accidentally hurting yourself due to sleep deprivation." He gave him a small smile as he made his way over and pushed the smaller boy back down on the couch. "And, hey, you can make it up another day! I'm not gonna make you do anything if you're not feeling well, you know."

Ouma huffed indignantly. _Dammit, why are you so kind to me._

This has been going on for a few months now -- Ouma coming over to Saihara's house and cooking breakfast for the both of them on some days, and Saihara cooking on the other days. It started when Ouma found out that Saihara lived alone and barely took care of himself. His parents were overseas and their only presence in Saihara's life was the fat check he got every month. It looked like a lot of his money went to buying _Danganronpa_ memorabilia rather than properly feeding himself, though.

Thus, Ouma made it his mission to feed this boy with some proper food, and coming over on mornings became part of his daily routine. He somewhat made Saihara's home into his own which was... nice. It's not like his own parents particularly care about where he is or what he's doing anyways.

(He'd almost forgotten how nice it felt to eat with someone, too.)

Saihara softly giggled at Ouma's slightly annoyed face. "So go and get some shut eye, and I'll wake you up when it's ready."

"It's not like it's gonna be more than 30 minutes," Ouma muttered it to himself but Saihara must have heard it since he continued to urge the tired boy to sleep. 

"But you still need it," Saihara retorted, shaking his head with fond exasperation while laying a blanket on top of Ouma's curled up body. He'd unknowingly made himself comfortable on Saihara's couch earlier. "Come on, just humor me this once?"

"Fine, but only because you're my favorite."

At that, Saihara laughed. Saihara must have thought he was joking, but... it's true. Ouma would do anything as long as it was Saihara who asked. Still... it might not hurt to joke around like that if it meant hearing Saihara's soft but melodic laugh. It really wasn't often for him to laugh. It was always some sort of titter or giggle, and definitely not something so _gentle-sounding_.

Ouma buried the warm feeling in his chest and the fast beating of his heart as he drifted off to sleep, replaying the sound of Saihara's quiet laughter like a lullaby.

¤

"Your cooking has really improved."

The two just finished eating their meal, and had a little over an hour to spare before they needed to be at school. Saihara allowed Ouma to sleep for longer than necessary but surprisingly, the nap _did_ help and he was feeling quite refreshed, although still a bit nervous. The bluenette insisted that he do the dishes, much to the shorter's chagrin. He knows Saihara only offered because he cares about his well being as much as a friend would, but Ouma still nibbles on his nails from how useless he feels. 

"Really?" The sound of his dear friend's voice brings him back to reality. Saihara finished washing soap suds off a plate and set it down on the drying rack with a quiet _clang_. "I only have one person to thank for that."

Ouma willed the blush out of his cheeks before the other could turn around and see them. He hates how such comments make him feel, how it makes his heart flutter and soar, how the tips of his ears are tinged pink. It's not like Saihara's even trying to get this reaction out of the shorter boy. It just comes naturally, and Ouma hates how he lingers on his every word. Since when did his feelings get so deep that even small comments like this sets his whole body ablazed?

"Ahaha, no, really... I-I didn't do much," he laughed, a tad bit awkwardly. "It's only been a few months since you've started, but you're already so good..! S-Saihara-kun's really talented!"

"No, 'Kichi. I wouldn't even know half of what I'm doing if it weren't for you teaching me - which, by the way, thanks for that." Saihara puts down another plate. "I still remember when my fingers would always be covered in cuts, and now look," Saihara briefly turned around to wave his hand at Ouma, fingers evidently lacking any sort of wounds. "No cuts." He turned around again to continue washing the dishes.

The sudden topic of cuts brought Ouma's attention to his own fingers, where he began picking at the band-aid wrapped around one, and memories of gentle touches and hushed whispers flow over him. It's obviously not the same bandaid from back then, when Ouma was teaching Saihara how to cook and had accidentally cut his finger. He wasn't usually prone to accidents in the kitchen after years of experience built up to feed himself when no one else was around to care for him, but he slipped when he caught himself mesmerized in Saihara's company and by the domesticity of the situation. However, looking at the placement of this new band-aid from when he stupidly tried to practice the knife game (for a stupider reason of wanting to be able to show off in the face of danger) and cut himself, he can't help but wonder if it was a subconsciously deliberate slip-up to hold onto the memory of that day when Saihara fussed over his wounds.

 ~~The sick person in him tells him that's also the reason why he lets himself be beat~~ ~~.~~ He frowns and feels gross at that thought. _God, there's something wrong with you. Stop thinking like this_.

Ouma slaps his palms over his cheeks to snap himself out of his thoughts but he knows they still linger the same way the burning sting on his cheeks does. "...Hey, Saihara-kun?"

"Hm?" His friend once again turns around from his spot in front of the sink. His golden eyes staring right at Ouma, calculating and piercing.

He shivers. His friend's eyes, although gentle at times, can be a bit creepy when they're looking right at you.

Still, he continues. "I should be the one thanking you." A few beats. "F-for always eating with me! It's really nice getting to eat the food you make... but that doesn't mean you always need to make food! I can do it too! Thanks for letting me sleep today, but you don't need to worry over me... really!" Shit, he's rambling now. He can feel his face heating up, embarrassed at how much he's spoken. "But, yeah... thank you." He looks down at his hands, avoiding Saihara's eyes.

It wasn't until he heard the familiar clatter of dishes that he realized that Saihara has gone back to doing the dishes. Honestly, there's a lot more he wants to say, but he hopes that he can input as much of his feelings as he can into those two words. There's a lot of hidden meanings behind this utterance that even he doesn't quite get, but he wonders if his friend catches any of them. His friend, always observant, peering at people behind the bill of his hat, dissecting their mannerisms and body language with an almost-expert eye. He thinks the role of detective suits Saihara, and Ouma wonders how much his best friend knows, how much he himself has unwittingly shared to the other. He briefly entertains the thought of one day bearing his heart to him, all truth and no lies, but there's too many complicated emotions that he's not quite sure he knows how to communicate. It's too vulnerable and too much to push onto one man. He was grateful to Saihara, but even his gratitude seems too heavy.

 _And not to mention annoying_ , Ouma thinks, trying not to cringe at how much he spoke but failing.

He silently wallows in his self hatred and dryly laughs at himself, at his feelings. How burdensome would it be, to find out the extent of your friend's dependency on you. How suffocating would it be, to know that he's signed off his own death to be with you. If Saihara decides to finally leave him, Ouma wouldn't blame him.

But one of those is a lie. He's exactly the depraved Danganronpa fucker he loathes, who would have still signed up regardless of whether Saihara was there. Saihara just ended up being the one he'd gladly give his life to.

In the end, Saihara merely hummed in response, surrounded by the clatter of cutlery.

¤

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, and Ouma finds himself clinging to a wall, hunched over in front of his number one bully. And god, moments like this really cements that he doesn't have much going on in life to change his mind about going to _Danganronpa_. Hell, his situation is probably like a charity case for them. In front of him, they dangle a life that's known of freedom, autonomy, control, and power. Whatever life and backstory they give him will surely be better than this, won't it?

But then he thinks of soft touches, of long lashes and shy, wobbly smiles, of gold-gray eyes brightening whenever their owner talks about his favorite franchise, and he wonders that maybe he was born to this world for one purpose. Despite all the hardships the world threw at him, it was all to meet him. And oh, he remembers why he's even doing this in the first place. 

He's so tired. He just wants to get this all over with so he can spend his final days with his beloved. No more looking behind his back, always cautious, and hiding, and no more being dragged to dark alleyways, and no more having what's remaining of his time be wasted by stupid Momota Kaito.

No, he'll sever this tie once and for all.

Ouma tastes something metallic as his tongue brushes over his busted lip, and he shakily brings his own purple eyes up to meet dull lilac ones. His vision's a little blurry, and he can feel his legs shaking as they try to hold his weight up, but he doesn't want to back down so he throws a glare at the other's direction.

He guesses this newfound behavior pissed off Momota somewhat that he's guffawing with a crazed look in his eyes. "Hey, what the hell's gotten into you that _you're_ approaching me this time? What, did you realize that you actually enjoy the pain and came back for more?" His eyes pierced right through Ouma, who was still struggling to stay up. "Fucking disgusting."

Ouma swallows the lump forming in his throat and the rage building up inside him. You're _the one who's disgusting._ He wants to retort that it's fucking weird that Momota was the one who approached him in the first place, was always the one seeking him out, beating him up. They both go to different schools, so why does he go to such lengths to find Ouma? _Why the fuck are you so obsessed with me._

No, wait, he doesn't want an answer to that. An obsession is too heavy of a word and its implications absolutely sickens him. It's revolting and disgusting, and he wants to crawl out of his own skin for having even thought that Momota had other intentions that aren't purely just to torture Ouma.

Ouma knows his eyes are positively burning with hatred and he can't stop his body from shaking, from what, disgust? fear? rage? All diplomatic intentions he previously had from yesterday have already been thrown out the window as soon as Momota's fist made contact with Ouma's face. It still hurts like a bitch. "As if. Aren't you tired of always coming after me? Don't you get bored? I think you need to find a different outlet for your sick, sadistic fantasies. Like, hey, you ever heard of _Danganronpa_? I think it'll suit a freak like you very well," he spouts, a saccharine smile on his lips and venom in his voice. "You should fuck off and sign up for it!" _And die miserably_ , he doesn't say.

"Why are you suddenly bringing up that show?" Momota asked, tilting his head as he looked down at Ouma. His expression was unreadable, which was... strange, considering his torturer usually wore his expressions on his sleeves.

Ouma's discomfort grows.

"Ah, right... The show's gonna start filming soon, huh." He rubbed the back of his neck before shooting Ouma a... knowing look?

"Right, isn't your little boyfriend obsessed with the show?" Momota continues to sneer. "But still calling DR fans freaks... guess that's your type, huh."

"Shut up." God, Ouma wants to leave so badly. He can't stand being in the other's vicinity anymore. Why the fuck did he think this was a good idea??

Momota, predictably, keeps going.

"But, you know," _shut up shut up shut up._ "I actually did sign up for it!" Momota exclaimed with wide eyes and a wider sneer on his face, and Ouma couldn't help but feel actual fear at the sight. "Yup, but I'm not gonna be one of its victims or those blackeneds who only kill one person."

Momota reels his head back with a boisterous laugh. "Who cares about tricking the others and surviving through the trial. No, not at all, I'm joining to _win_. I'm gonna kill everybody and win!"

 _Crazy. He's actually crazy. No way would Danganronpa want someone like him, the game'll end too early and it'll be boring for everyone_. Still, Ouma bites his tongue and doesn't say anything.

"I'm assuming you came here to ask me to lay off you with _Danganronpa_ around the corner," Ouma rapidly turns his head back up to Momota. _How did he..?_ "Pfft, you don't need to look at me like that. I'm not that stupid. And you know what! I'm feeling... generous. We'll be seeing a lot of each other in the near future anyways, so it doesn't matter. I'll leave you alone."

"What do you--"

"Just know that I'll be the one to kill you."

And with that, he was gone and Ouma's huddled against the wall again, clutching his stomach, except it isn't because he was just punched there. He scrunched his eyes, retching and feeling the false bravado and confidence he donned for only a short moment come up, up, up, and out of his mouth and down, down, down onto the ground, splattering with the breakfast his beloved friend had made for him earlier that morning.

Momota Kaito was also going to be in _Danganronpa_ 's Season 53 and Ouma had never felt so, so sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the latter half of this chapter makes me mad uncomfy but honestly... is anyone else scared of pregame kaito from the audition tapes

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing fanfic in years, and i'm not much of a writer (i mostly draw) so !! sorry if it's all over the place aha.. but whatever this is for self indulgence purposes AHDJGJ
> 
> i love pregame and the idea that shuichi and kokichi knew each other before the game.... it's the bittersweet feelings knowing what happens in the killing game :^)
> 
> drop some ideas u want ouma's bucket list to have !! no thoughts head empty; i can't think of any to add lol


End file.
